Complex Fascination: The Untold Story of Madge
by BohemianTypewriter
Summary: When she first met him, she found him to be weak yet strong, powerful yet powerless; and it had fascinated her. No tesserae, odds forever in her favor had implied a life safe of the Hunger Games…but he inspired her. She wanted to fight in the Hunger Games herself-the glacier to melt and be part of the raging storm. She didn't want to watch the fire. She wanted to feel it burn.
1. Chapter 1

You could not deny that the boy was fierce. She had often admired how he and her friend constantly defied the authorities, fully aware of the risks they were in, but she could not understand him. They never had much cause to meet, and when they did, Katniss was always there, and his own hostile manner, most likely employed to discourage her, only added to her interest. She was fascinated and repulsed, like a child who has seen a worm on a hook, writhing in agony.

It was his passion that attracted her, the willingness to break the law and risk his life, the way she caught him speaking of the Capitol, of their sadistic President Snow, food shortages, and reapings. He spoke of all these things but carefully, always cautious, in thinly veiled words heavy with meaning. He was careful enough not to do anything that would get him into trouble; he had his family to look after. Yet every time he bit back the words on his tip of his tongue, or let his emotions flow into his face, you could see the fire, the rebellion. He was fire, kindled of rage and hatred. He would fight, he would win, and ultimately destroy as he consumed.

She, on the other hand, was cold, and detached, and managed to hide her interest with skill. She was like an iceberg floating in the midst of a stormy sea: cold and detached as the war raged around her, but with so much hidden under the surface that she was not fool enough to show. The nights watching children die, year after year, some of them her friends, and none deserving, had scarred her too. Her mother's immobilizing pain-do not think she was unaware of the reason. She would watch the Fiftieth Hunger Games again and again at night, looking at her mother's twin fight, survive, and be overwhelmed, making her angrier and angrier. Worse, she felt vulnerable, knowing that this could happen to her.

When she first met him, she found him to be weak yet strong, powerful yet powerless; and it had fascinated her. No tesserae, odds forever in her favor had implied a life safe of the Hunger Games…but he inspired her. She wanted to fight in the Hunger Games herself-the glacier to melt and be part of the raging storm. She didn't want to watch the fire. She wanted to see it burn.

He found her untouchable, unreachable, unattainable, and this infuriated him. He scowled when he saw her and spoke harshly, rejecting her feeble attempts at friendship. He wanted to show her the difference between life spent swanning along and life spent as a fight to survive. And somehow, she fascinated him as well-she seemed to float along on the surface of life, while others drowned and wrestled in the waters with unseen creatures. He didn't understand her, and this fascinated him.

So the two opposite elements met occasionally, spoke sparingly, yet the ice found herself obsessing over something she felt, something he made her feel. Strong. A fighter. And something else, something she could not put a name to.

And she vowed to make him hers.


	2. Chapter 2

Reaping Day. It was the day everyone in District Twelve-every one in the twelve districts of Panem, really-dreaded. As Madge looked through the window, a light breeze blew towards her, fresh from the hills and clean of any traces of coal dust, fanning her hair around her face. The sky was a clear, bright blue with tiny snatches of clouds that couldn't hold any rain. Madge tilted her face towards the sky, drinking in the sunlight and breeze before she looked back down and at her district-hers the only grand house among the tiny two-roomed cottages, surrounded by the slightly more attractive quarters of the Peacekeepers. She sighed as she tied back the curtains to let in as much sunlight as possible. Her home, fenced in from the beauty of nature and rough from the poverty of her people.

What got to her the most was how it didn't have to be this way. As an only child, she had grown up rather mischievous and often got caught for her childish pranks. Remarkably, she always took her punishment without annoyance of fuss, because she always understood when it was her fault and when it wasn't. Now, older and smarter, she had the same views. As she looked over her district every morning the same thoughts ran through her mind: bitter, angry thoughts that rambled about the unfairness of it all. They were being punished, again and again, for something their ancestors had done.

maybe it would help if there was a confidant, or a place she could just yell herself hoarse and forget about the problems of the world. The only place where she could speak her thoughts was her own mind. Apart from Katniss, she was her own only friend. Her only confidant.

shaking her head, Madge walked to her bed. The plain white dress was draped over the sheets, cut simply but with elegance. Due to her position as the mayor's daughter, Madge was obliged to dress accordingly at every reaping. She was allowed to stand with the other sixteen year olds, but that was about it. She stick out like a sore thumb among them, even though every reaping she chose the simplest dress in her wardrobe. Just another way to spread more cruelty among them. Just another way to ensure that she would NEVER be seen as an individual, or feel part of her district. Another way to make the Seam, and Gale, hate her more.

Dressed now, Madge bit down on her lower lip as she tied her hair back with a gold ribbon. Madge reached down and fastened a little gold pin onto her bodice. The mockingjay flew in a circle of gold, looking as perfect and detailed as if a real bird had been frozen into gold. Yet it wasn't the bird that interested her. It was the history that it held, the bloody trail spattered over her mind and memories. It signified the Capitol's cruelty. It belonged to someone who had been killed by the Hunger Games, and it was the boldest form of dissent that she could afford.

As the doorbell rang, Madge ran downstairs to answer it. "Don't mind, Lila. I'll get it," she called as she ran downstairs with a fistful of money, knowing who it would be. She opened the door, peering through, and found herself face to face with Gale.

Madge eyed him. His clothes were stained with sweat from the exertions in the woods, the woodland scents reaching her nose and once again she envied him his freedom, his ability to provide for himself, his refuge. His grey eyes met hers for a brief instance, and then she noticed Katniss by his side and forced herself to smile. Even though Madge liked Katniss, she couldn't help but be jealous of Katniss. For her power. Her freedom. And for Gale. She was holding out a bag of strawberries. Katniss's eyes travelled from Madge's face to her toes, taking in the reaping dress. Madge felt a wave of embarrassment. "Pretty dress," said Gale.

Madge turned around sharply, shooting him a look both suspicious and quizzical. It could be a genuine compliment, but she thought he was making fun of her. They'd been bitter towards each other for years, but this was the first time he tried to hurt her by mocking her. Madge pressed her lips together to hold back a flash of anger. Anger wouldn't impress him. "Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?" Madge shot back. She bit her lip to prevent a satisfied smile as he looked confused. He recovered in an instant, ready to continue their little game. "You won't be going to the Capitol," Gale told her coldly. His eyes went to her chest and she realized he was looking at the pin, and she could have slapped herself. Of course, to him wearing the pin wasn't a symbol of dissent. It just separated her from the district and from him even further. "What can you have had? Five entries? I had six when I was just twelve years old."

"That's not her fault," says Katniss, coming to Madge's rescue. Maybe she had noticed the tension between them, but Madge doubted it. The girl was clueless about herself and Gale, which was clear as day to Madge's eyes. Madge cleared her face of her emotions.

"No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is."

"Good luck, Katniss." Madge said, ignoring him. She felt his annoyance as she turned away, and had to suppress a smile once again. He was incredible. When she looked at him, he was so stiff with pride and annoyance that she could see that he considered her beneath his notice. And when she gave up and ignored him, his indifference turned to covetousness as she acted indifferently towards him. He was a puzzle.


	3. Chapter 3

Madge had seen people's reactions when friends and family members were chosen. The screams, the tears, the hands tugging at the tribute's clothes, their hands. Hysterics. Usually, though, the people just stood by, watching the child climb onto the stage, watch him being led to his death. This quiet acceptance and misery made her respect the people. When she saw the screaming faces, she felt as if it was fake. If you really hurt, why do you show it to the world? Madge couldn't help but wonder if the people wanted to get attention, to show off with their tears.

Right now, though, she herself felt like screaming. She was starting to understand how they felt. They didn't scream or cry to get attention. They did it because the pain rose inside them like a tide, threatening to sweep them off their feet. They did it to return to earth, to let the horror and the fear and the pain escape. Release. Madge clamped a hand over her mouth, vowing to remain silent, as she watched her friend face the crowd and struggle to compose herself, Prim thrashing in Gale's arms. Haymitch plummeting off the stage. She gritted her teeth as the boy was chosen, praying that it wasn't Gale.

He walked towards her, looking Madge in the eye while Prim resorted to hiccupy little sobs. Looking around, he couldn't spot Mrs. Everdeen and his eye caught Madge's. Madge nodded, and held out her arms. Gale unceremoniously deposited Prim to her, knowing he couldn't carry her to the boys' side and that Madge was the only one he could trust with Prim, because she loved Katniss, too.

* * *

The chairs were high-backed, wooden, uncomfortable. They made you wish you were somewhere else. Madge looked straight ahead, eyes fixed on a soot smudge on the creamy wall in front of her._ I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry._

Prim sat next to her, her eyes downcast and tear tracks glittering on her face in the fluorescent lights, hands clasped in her lap. The sound of footsteps made Madge glance up. Mrs Everdeen walked up to the row of chairs and sat down next to Prim, cuddling her daughter. Madge saw the indecisiveness in her face, the confusion and guilt. Absently, she wondered what she had done to make herself afraid to face her on daughter. Ashamed to face her own daughter.

The last person to arrive was Gale. His expression was stony, his brows drawn together. As he walked by Madge he nodded to her and sat down on the last chair beside her. Madge swallowed, feeling a slight but significant shift in their relationship. She wasn't inclined to talk, but just because he was closer to her than he had ever been before made her heartbeat race. _What is wrong with me?_ Madge thought. _My best friend is going to the Hunger Games and I'm thinking about her boyfriend?_

* * *

Madge walked into the room quickly, trying to take as less time as possible, so that there would be more for Gale. Katniss looked as if a different brush had painted her, making her softer around the edges. Without the veil of her hostility she looked much younger. Her eyes were red, her fingers running over the fabric of the couch she was sitting on. Madge's throat was lined with tears, but she surprised herself by swallowing and speaking in a steady voice. "They let you wear one thing in the arena. One thing to remind you of home. Will you wear this?" Madge held out the little gold pin.

"Your pin?" Katniss looked as if wearing a token was the last thing on her mind. But this was important to Madge, and as she opened her mouth to explain, she realized that it was likely that the Justice Building was bugged and they were recording every word. _It belonged to my dead aunt. She was in the Hunger Games. She didn't survive. This is proof of the Capitol's inhumanity. And you have to bring it down._

"Here, I'll put it on your dress, okay?" Madge bent down and pinned the mockingjay to the pale blue fabric. "Promise you'll wear it to the arena, Katniss? Promise?"

"Yes," said Katniss, and Madge relaxed. She bent forwards and kissed her cheek, a gesture so painful that her throat ached. This was what her mother used to do, every night, when she tucked Madge in. It's the gesture that has been used to test for fever, to give a blessing, to say good night. To say good bye.

**A.N.: Is it sad that I remembered every word of their conversation without having to open the book? Next chapter will be longer, promise.**


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